


And the Months Slip By

by TheWritingSquid



Series: Disaster Dad [7]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dadgil, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Monthly Chronicles Format, Toddler!Nero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingSquid/pseuds/TheWritingSquid
Summary: A chronicle of Vergil's life with his little monster across the months, from midnight nightmares to tantrums about squares and a first day at the park.





	And the Months Slip By

**Author's Note:**

> Single-chapter fic, which is really several drabbles of Vergil's life with baby Nero as the year progresses. So the format is a bit different, but I hope you'll enjoy all the snippets of ideas that never became fics of their own.
> 
> January won't make much sense if you haven't read the previous fic (VIVO PER LEI, #5), but otherwise these mostly stand on their own!

**January**

Nothing played in Vergil's home but Andrea Bocelli for the next month. Nero threw a fit whenever it stopped playing, yelling "Ancora" at the top of his lungs. At first he wouldn't even accept anything beyond _ Vivo Per Lei_, forcing Vergil to choose between angry toddler screams and the same song on repeat a hundred times, but eventually Nero could be convinced to let the entire disc play--until he latched onto _ Con Te Partiro _ and refused to hear anything else. Dante thought the whole ordeal hilarious (_he _ didn't have to endure it every waking hour) and pushed Vergil into another duo one night, to Nero's great delight. By the end of the month, the obsession was starting to pass, and Vergil risked everything and hid the disc away, as if it had never existed. Nero never mentioned it again.

###

Once, while tasked with putting Nero in his PJs, Dante found the old demonic research still spread on Vergil’s desk. He waited for the kid to be asleep before cornering Vergil with it in the living room.

“Demonic fruit? Ultimate power?” He waved the book midair before flinging it at Vergil’s, who barely caught it in time. “What the actual fuck, Vergil?”

“That’s none of your business,” Vergil snapped back. He hadn’t touched the research in months, but Dante’s tone grated on him, brought back old enmities they’d barely managed to bury.

“You gotta be shiting me. Ya got a kid now, fuck all this power business! I thought you’d gone past that, Vergil.”

He would never _ be _past ‘that’, because ‘that’ was how he had survived for well over a decade. ‘That’ was the only way he knew to keep himself--keep his family--safe. Why Dante couldn’t see this was beyond him. “I just… I promised Nero to protect him.”

That deflated some of Dante’s anger. He huffed, “Running off after some shit-ass fruit and getting killed ain’t gonna protect him. He needs you here.”

“I’m here, am I not?” Vergil retorted, red-hot anger slipping into his tone. Dante was in no place to give him lessons; he risked his life every night battling one demon or another, and where would Nero be, without his beloved uncle? He needed both of them. “I’ve had these books since before I even found Nero, and I’ve barely touched them since.” And it haunted him, that one day he might lack the strength to protect his son, that something might happen to his little monster and he would be powerless to stop it.

Dante stared hard and long at him. “Just--don’t do anything rash.”

Vergil smirked at him, his fingers playing with the corner of the book’s pages. “I would never.”

It earned him a snort, but Dante left it at that. Long after he was gone, Vergil thumbed through his notes again, barely formed theories scribbled in the dead of the night, the fumes of homemade salt and vinegar chips the only thing keeping him awake as he sought another way to acquire power, to truly make himself unbeatable and finally chase his fears away. Nero’s arrival had interrupted the search, and only multiplied the fears.

  


**February**

The sheathed Yamato in hand, Vergil went through basic kata, precision and fluidity flowing from it, born from years of practice. He'd been rusty at first, his form stiff and slow, but he'd integrated routines to some of his evenings, after he'd put Nero to bed, foregoing either laundry or dishes for the sake of training. He'd yet to figure out how to go outside and practice his judgement cuts, as he would rather not risk his poor flat, but even the irregular sessions had already done wonders on both his body and mind. He had forgotten how calming it was, to slip into this space, nothing but the Yamato and him, a single mind slicing through the world.

"Da'?"

The small voice drew him out of his trance. He finished the cut then spun around, towards the bedroom. Nero stood in the doorway, his hair all spiky and messed from the bed, rubbing his eyes.

"What is it, Nero?"

"No sleep."

Vergil frowned and walked to him, crouching in front of Nero. He'd had a rough time staying asleep for most of February. "Nightmares again?"

A tiny nod. Vergil set the Yamato down and opened his arms. Nero threw himself there, burying his head in Vergil's chest. He never wanted to talk about what was in those nightmares, and Vergil wondered if they were filled with demons, like his father’s. He'd taught himself not to jerk awake since Nero's arrival, to hold the child tighter and let his warmth chase away imagined smoke, an electrifying cackle, or demons tearing Nero away from him.

"I was training, Nero. Do you want to see?"

He felt the tiny nod against him, so he picked up the toddler and set him down on the couch. Then he slowly slid the Yamato out of its sheath, handing the latter to his son. The blade cast shifting blue light across his pale cheeks, making his eyes even brighter than usual. It had been a long time since he'd last seen the glow by which he'd known, without a doubt, that the tiny child caged by demons belonged to him. It was reassuring, a sort of protectiveness from the katana Vergil adored. Nero wrapped tiny hands around the sheath, his gaze never leaving the glow.

"Your duty is to hold onto this," Vergil said. "Can you do that for me?"

Nero nodded once more, and Vergil couldn't resist dropping a kiss on his forehead before he returned to the exercises. He checked in between routines, glancing at his son, and every time Nero had slid a little farther down, his eyes drooping heavily, until he finally fell completely asleep, arms wrapped around the Yamato's sheath.

**March**

March came, and with it Vergil's best estimates of when his son would have been born. The concept of birthday and the cyclical nature of passing time seemed lost to Nero, who grew confused and frustrated at his father's attempts to explain. They chose to celebrate on the Spardaghetti Day mid-month, and while Nero loved the cake and gifts, he clearly did not fully grasp why he was allowed them beyond the idea this was his special day. 

For the span of a week, he also developed an obsession for squares (well, rectangles, but Nero's grasp of the distinction was still lacking, and correcting him on the topic only earned Vergil an aggressive "No! Square!"). Nero folded papers until he got the desired shape, drew them all across his art, played with his building block but never his pizza-making kit, and demanded that his food be square-shaped on a regular basis. Once, he threw a tantrum because the pancakes were too round, and no amount of telling him they would taste the same calmed him down. Eventually, Vergil gave in to his whim and cut the pancake so it would be a square. Nero's tears immediately dried up, and he excitedly took a bite out of it… only to burst out crying again the moment he noticed the now-missing corner, yelling that it was no longer square. Nothing could calm him the second time, and he screamed until he was too exhausted to do so. As he put his child to bed, Vergil prayed to every entity he knew that this square-obsession would vanish soon.

**April**

When Nero realised snow was melting, he was sad for days. He kept asking Vergil why and demanding that winter remained. The lower the piles of snow became, the more inconsolable he was. Not even Dante managed to cheer him up for more than a few hours, so Vergil started taking him out of the house more to distract him. They went on long walks around the neighbourhood. Soon enough, Nero discovered the snow melting often left long slabs of ice on each street's side, under which water rivuleted, and that if he jumped or stomped hard enough on them, they would crack and shatter under his feet. His concern from the melting snow vanished, buried under sheer destructive joy. By the end of the month, Vergil had acquired fish-covered rainboots and a raincoat that had extra arms and an octopus-shaped head, and they spent more time outside than Vergil had ever cared for. Nero's clothes always seemed either wet or suddenly too small for him, and Vergil reluctantly allowed Dante to babysit him for a few hours so he could figure out what they'd need to buy for summer. Vergil couldn't believe his tiny human son had grown so fast, right under his nose.

**May**

True warmth returned with the month of May, and Vergil eventually stomped on his excessive worry and brought Nero to the park, where he could interact with other children. His English had grown until only a faint accent remained, and Lady had pointed out it couldn’t be good for him to never meet others his age. Playmates sounded like a complication to Vergil, but he decided to leave the decision to Nero. He should’ve expected his child boundless enthusiasm for new experiences; as soon as it was suggested to him, Nero began _ demanding _ they go to the park.

So they went, and Vergil watched from a bench by the sandy playground’s side as Nero approached a group of kids running after one another, climbing all over the slides and plastic modules, sometimes jumping down into the sand below to avoid being caught. There was no hesitation in his steps: he stomped up to a black-haired girl and simply declared “I wanna play!”, and she grinned at him and explained the rules. Nero joined them, and the vice around Vergil’s lungs loosened with each of his excited screams and bouts of laughter. He was sure to scrape his knee, the way he scrambled up and down things, but Nero hurried back up to his feet every time he fell, so Vergil restrained himself and made sure to stay screwed tight into his seat despite his constant urges to put an end to it. He and Dante had had each other; Nero could use another friend or two, and he held his own even if he was tinier than most other children in the playground.

It was all going well until Nero tagged an older boy right as he tried to run up a slide. This miniature scum pretended not to have noticed--even going as far as declaring he’d escaped. Nero slammed his tiny palm in the slide in response, “That’s not true, I got you! I got you!”

“You didn’t!” The older boy crossed his arms. “I didn’t feel anything. You must be like a ghost. Is that why your hair is white, ghost?”

Vergil’s anger swirled and he’d already risen by the time Nero retorted, all fury and pride. “My hair’s white ‘cause it’s like my da’! It’s like snow. White and fluffy and cool!”

A soft warmth spread through Vergil when Nero claimed the family white hair. _ Like his da’ _. He couldn’t help but run a hand through it, slicking it back now. It had been a long time since his had been as soft as Nero’s, but it nonetheless remained a source of pride. All the other kids had stopped playing, hovering ever closer, and Vergil found himself doing the same.

“Yeah, but it’s summer now!” the older boy declared, and he jumped down the plastic module, slamming Nero into the ground and grabbing a fistful of sand. He started rubbing it in Nero’s white hair, screaming about mud and Nero being a dirty little cheater.

Nero screamed, more rage than hurt, and before Vergil had taken his first stride to help, he put all of his training brawling with Dante into action and smashed a tiny fist in the older boy’s face. The other child must have been three or four years older, but his head snapped back anyway, and Nero squirmed out from under him… only to jump right back into the fray, leaping on his back.

It was all Vergil could do not to burst out laughing. Nero was so much tinier, but he fought like a feral animal, and even when he finally reached his little monster, he had to pry him off with more strength than he expected. Nero glared down at the prone boy even once in his arms, and Vergil could only hope his own smirk wasn’t _ too _self-evident. He joined his son in the glaring party and declared, “There is no honour in winning by cheating. Learn to play fair, or you’ll always lose.”

Then he brushed the sand out of Nero’s hair, directly on the boy, and turned heels. He was striding away from the playground with his child in arms as the other parents finally came running. 

That night, Vergil took special care washing Nero’s hair. When Nero asked if it was bad hair, Vergil ran his hand through the wet, shampooed mop. 

“I promise you, Nero, there is not a single part of you that is bad. Cheats like this boy will latch onto anything when caught.”

Nero remained unusually quiet through the evening, but when the next morning came, he was already demanding to return to the park and play again. Vergil couldn’t tell if he’d forgotten the previous day’s incident, or if he enjoyed a good fight as much as the rest of his family. It didn’t matter. They returned that very afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Disaster Dad Vergil *also* does the Salt & Vinegar chips from the Familiar AU. All Vergils do this, if I'm writing them. XD


End file.
